


Endless Possibilities

by adrift_me



Series: Old Light, New Light [18]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Denial, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I jsut think crow deserves good things okay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: There is a certain selflessness about being a Guardian. It is about the protection of others, about taking care of those that were thrust in your confidence.Why shouldn't it extend to Crow, although in a slightly different regard?
Relationships: Guardian/Crow, Guardian/Uldren Sov
Series: Old Light, New Light [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090106
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Endless Possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something spicy and good. So here it is!
> 
> [Request prompts on tumblr!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

There is a certain selflessness about being a Guardian. It is about the protection of others, about taking care of those that were thrust in your confidence.

Why shouldn't it extend to Crow, although in a slightly different regard?

The Guardian gives Crow an attentive look, studying his features, searching for a "no" or a "please".

They find it, of course, when Crow gives a reassuring smile.

"I want this. Please..."

There will be no more words, then, unless the Guardian permits it. They reach out and press a careful finger against Crow's lips, feeling their softness, their velvety kiss against their finger. A shushing gesture is but a step up to something different.

The intention is clear enough for Crow as he carefully wraps his lips around the Guardian's finger and sucks on it. The Guardian loses breath, watching that mouth, often found in such clever remarks, move and press against the skin. Crow's mouth is hot and unashamed, and it is a pleasure to watch him.

It is hard not to start moving their finger, just to see how it will disappear and reappear between dampened lips.

They pull away and press Crow carefully down to the cot. The space in the ship is little, and they have to make due. There is just enough, however, to have Crow resting flat against the smooth surface, naked to the core. The Guardian savours the sight of Crow's body, gliding their gaze against smooth features, scarless muscles and slightly shimmering curves of his body. They would ravage him there and now, but the scene calls for slower pleasures.

The Guardian takes a moment to take off the folds of their upper armor, baring chest to pleasant temperature and heat that builds between the two bodies present.

Crow's stare is instant, sharp and devouring.

The Guardian soothes him with a kiss. They are going to do everything possible to make sure that Crow forgets language and leaves all thoughts behind for the night.

Careful fingertips touch and brush a line down Crow's sternum, and his stomach moves in excited breathing as the Guardian explores him. They tease sensitive nipples and draw down the refined hips. Between his legs - excitement. His cock is getting harder at every delicate touch, as if teasing goes straight to where need is growing.

The Guardian takes a handful of him and gives a few certain strokes. To excite Crow, to draw out beautiful moans that make the Guardian's own body light up with need brighter than Light itself. They stroke him, slowly for now, helping Crow rest against the cot and enjoy.

When words seem to have been forgotten, they bring the speed up. Just enough to get Crow to whine, a sound so wonderful, and then to have him buckle in need with a single, "More...".

The Guardian wouldn't want to keep him hanging. So they do what feels an obvious move - lean down and wrap their own mouth around Crow's cock.

It is worth it for the moan he makes alone.

Carefully, the Guardian works Crow with a firm touch and a wicked tongue. It is instinctual, it is pleasant to find the spot that has Crow writhing. His pleasure seems so immininent, and yet the Guardian knows enough to keep it an inch away. Crow's hands are curling into the sheets on the cot, grasping. He keeps looking down, propped up by pillows, but his eyes are hazy and lost. The Guardian looks up, a bulge against their cheek, and keeps working to tear Crow apart.

It could happen any moment, but the Guardian wouldn't have it. They pull away, just enough to let their mouth wander against Crow's hip, over the sensitive thighs, just a little close to his cock, but never on it. They move up to kiss his stomach again and up his sternum and up his throat that wobbles, and up his chin, and up to that little spot on his jaw that draws another moan out of a now shy mouth.

That mouth the Guardian kisses, to soothe Crow, to reassure.

They ask if it's good.

"Please don't stop," Crow moans in reply, and even those words are lost as the Guardian's hand tightens. His wish is their command.

It takes a while. The teasing grows painful, and Crow's cock is in clear need of release. Crow's body is strained hard as a violin string, one push - and he would either break and topple or he will make a wondrous sound. The Guardian aims for both.

They can't deny him any longer.

"Guardian--" any begging is lost in a deep, choked out moan as Crow comes in pleasantly painful streaks. His body releases, his muscles relax, and the tension turns into heavy sighs of waves of pleasure.

The air is hot. The Guardian tastes the sweat and the heat of what happened between them. Their arm is wrapped around Crow's shoulders as they try to stay together on the narrow cot. The ship's hull reveals stars as they float by, endless and countless. Crow's eyes are closed, however, and his cheek is pressed against the Guardian's chest. Their skin sticks to each other, and it is easier to feel the beating of a gentle heart in Crow's ribcage.

The Guardian knows there will be another. They want to write a book of what Crow may be like when they have him bent over, when they have him take them, when his mouth is working _them_ instead of the finger. Possibilities are as endless as stars above.

And they are both thankful for a chance to explore that strange expanse.


End file.
